


Hostess

by loserless



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Forceful Sex, Kidnapping, NSFW, Smut, hostage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserless/pseuds/loserless
Summary: She was lucky, and that luck sometimes made her unlucky. Such as the time she got stuck in a department store with a recently escaped convict.





	Hostess

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a kudos or a comment, I'd love to hear if you want more!

The fact that she was lucky was fortunate for [Y/N]. When she cheated on a test, she didn’t get caught. When she ran red lights, she didn't get caught. When she rolled dice, she got Yahtzee every time. When she stole expensive things from high-end retailers, the staff practically helped her pocket their merchandise. And she supposed it was some sort-of luck that she ended up in the same department store as a recently escaped convict.

She’d been in the process of casing the building, planning on returning at a later date to commit a felony, when a man strode in her direction. [Y/N] paid him no mind - she didn’t know him, and there was no reason to assume that he knew her, so she figured he’d carry on without much incident. How surprised she was to glance up from her cell phone only to be engulfed by a pair of strong, unfamiliar arms.

Instinctually, she made a move to scream, but her face was entirely smothered by a broad shoulder. Before she could even begin to struggle, the arms held tighter.

There was a hot whisper in her right ear, breath wafting down her neck. “If you don’t play along, it’s gonna mean big trouble for you, toots.”

She felt herself being rocked from side-to-side like he was an affectionate lover and not some malevolent stranger.

“Understand?”

Withholding a whimper, she nodded minutely, her face chafing against the person’s jacket.

He pulled back, raspy voice full of ‘sincere’ joy. “Sorry about that, babe. It’s been a long day. How’ve ya’ been?”

[Y/N] ran her eyes over the man’s face in a frantic grab for recognition, but the only recognisance she found made her absolutely sick to her stomach. 

Still, she cracked a nervous smile. “I’ve been okay. A little tired, but I’m alright.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was she going to do? This had got to be a nightmare. There’s just no other explanation.

Jerome Valeska grinned, lips spreading wide across his cheeks. The murderer brought his hood in closer to his face, the beanie beneath covering a shock of fiery hair. “You too, huh? Let’s get home then!”

His hand found its way to hers, the grip bordering on painful - a reminder, probably, to not to do anything stupid. She forced her feet to match his pace as they made their way to the nearest exit, feeling him rest his head near her shoulder for a moment.

“Don’t you dare even look at anyone else.”

[Y/N] didn’t, keeping her eyes straight ahead of her the whole walk to the car.

He snatched the keys from her quivering fingers, not letting her go as he opened the passenger door. She made a sound of surprise as he shoved her in, forcing her over the middle console before climbing in as well. He slammed the door shut, tossing the keys into the cupholder and turning to his new captive with a flourish. “Well then - your house? Or mine? Better make it yours, now that I think about it,” He giggled nonsensically to himself, playing with the dice hanging from her rearview mirror, “These are kinda corny, you know?”

The terrified woman had no idea how to respond, but she swallowed thickly and tried to anyways. “M-My house? You want to go there?”

Jerome didn’t reply for a moment, shuffling through her glove compartment for something worth looking at. “Huh? Oh, yeah - your house.”

“Um, isn’t there somewhere else you want to go?” [Y/N] asked shakily, starting the car with a definite reluctance.

He stopped rummaging for a moment, looking at her with disbelief. “Where do you suppose I should go? Besides back to Arkham - that shit is painfully boring.” For another few moments, he continued snooping, until he paused once more, “You don’t have a roommate, do you?”

She drew in a sharp breath, but shook her head.

“That’s fortunate,” Jerome chimed, sounding like he chewed on gravel for a living, “For you and for them - they’d definitely have to die.”

She didn’t reply, and he didn’t continue, humming absently to himself as [Y/N] drove him to her apartment. And surprisingly, that was all he had to say - that is, if you don’t count the occasionally pensive expression followed by maniacal giggling. That wasn’t so much talking as it was spazzing, but she wasn’t about to make any verbal complaints.

When the car came to a complete stop, and the keys were out of the ignition, the hostage woman could hardly find the strength to get out of the car. It didn’t seem to matter either way, because he sidled over to the driver’s door and practically ripped it off its hinges, gesturing for her to exit. She did, clumsily.

And now the pair sat at her small, round dining table, a bowl of Cheetos between them. [Y/N] hadn’t the stomach to eat anything at the moment, and so her captor had coveted the bowl into his arms, chomping noisily while she looked on in silent terror.

After several fistfuls of cheesy snacks, the redheaded male piped up, “What’s your name, sweetcheeks? Mine’s Jerome, but I guess you know that already!” His snickered, watching her grip the tabletop as if to steady her poor, shaking hands.

“Uh… Um…”

He kicked her chair, earning a shriek. “What wazzat, girly? Can’t hear you when you won’t open your mouth.”

The female in question got her answer out much quicker this time, “[Y/N].”

Jerome made a long noise of acknowledgement, cheeks full of Cheetos and fingers lightly coated in orange dust. “Alrighty then - tell me about yourself. None of the boring shit, please.”

She was silent, blinking in disbelief. What the fuck did he want her to say? What was there to say in the first place?

His eyelids sunk, and he rose from the table, snorting as she flinched at his sudden movement. After unnecessarily using about half her bottle of dish soap in washing his fingers, he sat back down, her sink overflowing with suds. The murderer pulled his hat off, tossing it haphazardly behind him and letting his somewhat-flattened red hair float around his head. He rested his chin in his hands, blinking owlishly at the woman before him. “Okay - get it off your chest. Go ahead and beg for your life, or whatever. I know it’s bugging you,” Jerome sighed, absently checking his nails.

[Y/N] inhaled sharply, feeling a sob creeping up her throat, but she pushed it back down, still unable to stop the tears from winding down her cheeks. “I-I don’t know what you want, or what you’re looking for. I have money, I have jewelry, I have some nice things - whatever it is you want, you can have,” She offered hastily, her entire body alight with fear.

“I don’t want or need those things,” Jerome deadpanned, “I need somewhere to stay.”

The woman was quick to strike a new deal, “I can get you a hotel room, or a motel - anywhere you want!”

“Mhmm, and where are you going to find a place that will take me as a tenant?”

“Do you want weapons? I don’t really have anything of use, but I know people who do. Do you want to get out of the city? Out of the state? Country? Continent?”

“Tempting, but I’m pretty comfortable riiiiight here in Gotham.”

A few moments of silence passed the both of them by.

“Is there anyone that knows you that would let you stay with them?”

“You know me,” He commented, grinning toothily.

[Y/N] gulped, “I meant, like, friends?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Family?”

Jerome cackled. She took that as a negative.

“... Your, uh, cult, maybe?”

“Great people, lotsa fun,” He started, gesturing to his visage, “Totally untrustworthy. One of em’ tried to steal my look.”

She was at a loss.

“You done yet?” He inquired, leaning back in his seat.

The woman wiped at her tear-stained face with the sleeves of her sweater, and nodded minutely.

“Did that make you feel any better?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off almost immediately.

“Don’t answer that - I really don’t care,” Jerome interjected, “Now… Lemme hear about my wonderful host.”

A few minutes had passed by since the first time he’d asked her that, and she had no better insight into what exactly he wanted to hear. He seemed to take her silence as further confusion, and though he was exasperated, he didn’t seem close to violence - yet.

“Are you really going to make me do all the work here?” The criminal croaked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, “Let’s start with something easy - you gotta job?”

Why, yes, Mr. Terrifying Serial Killer, I have a job stealing stuff from stores I don’t shop at! [Y/N] stumbled around her answer, “I work for a pawn shop, mostly for the owner’s wife. She’s a jeweler.” That was a safe reply - not a lie, but not the whole truth. Unfortunately, the man was much more perceptive than she had previously imagined. His eyes narrowed in her direction, and she could feel her stomach sink. What was the price for lying to Gotham’s resident scourge?

“Mhmm, yeah, and I murdered my parents,” Jerome retorted, making a big, pointless show with his hands as he spoke.

“But, uh, you actually did that, didn’t you? Or did I read the wrong tabloid?”

He let out a rapturous guffaw that had her nearly jumping out of her seat, but as soon as it came, it went, and he was back to being ‘serious’. “Yeah, no, I definitely killed them - I was just gloating.” The man suddenly bent forward, grabbing his hostage’s arm and yanking her towards him.

She yelped, taking ahold of his arm as well, but made no move to further the altercation. It was a fight that she would lose, no matter how lucky she usually was. Her breaths were short as he leaned in closer to her face, his still-healing scars able to be seen in great detail now that he was practically stealing the air she needed.

“I don’t know what those tabloids told you, but I’m not an idiot, sweetcheeks, and I know a lot about liars - one of them killed me, believe it or not!” Jerome whispered throatily, not moving away, “You’re definitely a liar, and lemme tell you something - you can’t lie to me, not even for a second.” He hooked his foot around the leg of her chair, drawing her even further into his grasp. The redhead’s voice darkened the more he spoke, “And if, by chance, you manage to lie to me, the next place you’ll find yourself lying is in the garbage disposal. Got it?”

He needn’t have asked, she was already scared shitless.

“Great, now that we’re on the same page, why don’t you tell me where you really work. This apartment is pretty middle-of-the-road for someone who claimed to have enough money to buy her life from me.”

[Y/N] wet her lips, eyeing her trapped arm nervously. He’d dragged her chair so far forward that their knees were touching, and she silently cursed her tiny choice in eating surfaces. It worked out so that she had to bend her torso across the table to reach him, and she found that the smooth edge digging into her stomach made it slightly painful to take breaths. She didn’t complain, she wouldn’t complain. It just wasn’t worth it. “Ah… I really do work for a pawn shop-”

“Did you not just listen to anything I said?”

The glint of malicious intent in his eyes grew larger, and so she hurried along with her explanation, “Hear me out - legally, on paper, I am a 24-hour consultant for this pawn shop. That’s how I do my income tax returns and shit. What I really do is… Uh… I steal expensive things from nice stores, and take them home.” Jerome stared at her in disbelief, and she took it as a sign to continue. “I go into the store a month or so beforehand to check for security cameras and exits and so-on - I was actually doing that when you… So kindly kidnapped me. I go back later, finesse the employees a little, and take home the goods.”

He blinked, still not believing what she said, but inveritably entertained by the idea. “And…?”

She swallowed. “I bag up what I stole, and stick it in envelopes to send to the pawn shop. What I send them is usually jewelry, so the wife disassembles it, keeps the stones, and liquidates the metals. They mail me checks every week, and again, strictly on paper this-” [Y/N] stiffly gestures with her free hand to the apartment around her, “Is the type of life that I can afford to live. The rest of the money finds its way here eventually. One of their friends is a mailman, so he usually delivers it by hand. It all works out pretty conveniently.”

“Why have money if you can’t spend it? Ya’ got it buried in the community garden or something?”

“Insurance? Greed? I don’t know. I’m actually working with another one my friends on that - she keeps a lot of my money for me, ‘cause she’s one of those rich-y types - I was planning on moving up in the world in a few months time…” She replied, watching her hand blanch from the lack of blood flow. He didn’t respond immediately, and the back of her neck began to sweat.

Finally, after what felt like years and years of waiting, the terrorist burst into a horrible peal of laughter, going so far as to release her arm in favor of falling the fuck out of his chair. She watched him cackle on the floor for at least a good two minutes before he snapped out of whatever psychotic trance he was in, rolling back onto his feet to sit at the table once more.

“I’m gonna be honest, babe, I was a little worried that you were going to be a real snooze-fest, but I think we’re going to get along just fine,” He reassured, only serving to make her more uncomfortable.

She didn’t know if it was worse to be ‘friends’ with the man who tore Gotham apart, or to be his enemy - either way, she was his victim.

Later, [Y/N] found herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom while Jerome used the shower. Just a few minutes beforehand, he’d taken the time to break her landline phone in half, and confiscate her cell phone, as well as several burner phones. He’d only been in her house for a little over two hours, and she had no idea where he could have possibly hidden her things. The man had then insisted that she not leave the room he was in so that she couldn’t do something productive - like run for her life, call for help, roll a joint, or knit a sweater.

In the meantime, the hostage woman read an old fashion magazine, and Jerome rattled her ears off.

“‘Strawberry Sunset’, huh? Ya’ know - I always thought girly products smelled better than men’s,” He rambled, a squashing sound following his words as he wasted her bathroom goods.

[Y/N] deadpanned back to him, “Be sure to rinse and repeat.”

The redhead made a noise of deliberation before he spoke again, “Does that shit really work? Isn’t it just a ploy to get people to buy more soap goo?”

“Nope,” She responded, popping the ‘p’, “First wash breaks down the dirt, second takes the debris out. Don’t believe me? It’ll lather more the second time.”

A few minutes passed by before the murderer let out a short shriek of laughter, “I’ll be damned! You’re right!”

Too busy rubbing her bruised head that she earned when his outburst startled her, [Y/N] could only manage to comment, “Conditioner should be left on for at least three minutes before a rinse.”

He poked his head out from behind the curtain, scarred lips pulled into a mirthful grin, “Thanks, babe. Maybe you should come in here and help me wash up. Whaddaya say?”

She immediately shriveled, clutching her magazine tighter as she stared at him. “Uh… No, thank you. I think I’ll have a shower after you.”

After a little wink, he pulled his head back behind the curtain. “And what am I supposed to do to entertain myself while you shower…?”

The woman cringed. “I don’t know - when you get out, I’ll get in. I’ll hurry, I promise.”

He chuckled darkly, coughing a few times. “Don’t sweat it, chica - I’ll spend a while smelling the rest of your girl-products, so you’ve got a few minutes before I get bored and start breaking shit.”

[Y/N] made a grunt of acknowledgement, looking up from her magazine a few moments later to see that Jerome had abruptly stepped out of the bathtub - completely nude.

“Oh - GOD, dude, you couldn’t have given me a little warning?” She shrieked, averting her gaze to hastily dig for a towel in the cubby behind her. With a timid, but urgent hand, the linen was held out to him, her eyelids cinched shut.

Jerome giggled the entire time he dried off, only stopping once to give his captive a long, pointed stare. “You got virgin eyes, or something?”

The woman ground her teeth together, “No - I just don’t get up in the morning hoping that some murderer will show me his cock.”

“C’mon, what’s a little nudity amongst friends?” He crooned, taking great care in going through her personal soaps and lotions, “Speaking of which, you might wanna strip now if you expect to have a shower tonight. I’d be glad to pull you out of there naked if you take too long.”

She still hadn’t opened her eyes, but reluctantly shucked off her clothing, jumping into the tub before he could so much as glance at her body. What followed was possibly the fastest washing she’d ever done - totalling about two minutes - as well as the quickest drying she’d ever done. When she was securely wrapped in a towel, she found that the redhead was unabashedly using her toothbrush.

[Y/N] didn’t even blink at his rudeness, opening up the bathroom cabinet and ripping a new brush straight from the package. If she was going to be slaughtered anyways, she’d make sure he wouldn’t have half as much fun as he hoped he would.

Jerome then turned to burn his old clothes in her kitchen sink, watching with glee as the ashes were swallowed by the drain. “It’s a new, new, new beginning for me, toots.”

Feeling horribly pessimistic, the hostage frowned, eyeing the fresh garments he’d borrowed from the things old flames had left her - a pair of weathered boxers and a large, dark-green t-shirt. He’d egged her on about it, wondering if she had a ‘ball-and-chain’ and if she knew they’d have to die. “More like the beginning of the end, for me,” She grumbled.

“Ah, but a beginning nonetheless!” The man exclaimed, shutting off the faucet so hard the handles nearly came loose, “Now - there any beds around here, babe?”

Her grimace deepened. Babe. She hoped he choked to death in his sleep. “My room is right over there. I suppose you won’t be staying on the couch?”

Jerome raised his eyebrows at her pointedly. “Do I look like the kinda guy that crashes on my victim’s couch?”

She didn’t reply, turning towards her futon. “I’ll take the couch, then.”

His voice called out from her bedroom, “Ah, ah, ah! You know I can’t leave you unattended out there, sweet cheeks.”

[Y/N] grew endlessly more frustrated, “Alright, awesome! I’ll just pass out on the fucking floor over here, then!” In a fit of uncontained rage, she stormed past the redhead, tearing a blanket off her bed and collapsing in a heap by the window.

No sooner than her body had hit the ground, a fist snaked its way into her hair, wrenching her half-upright. He growled in her ear, dragging the woman towards her own bed, “Listen, honey, it’s been over a year since I’ve slept in a bed this nice - let alone with a woman. So you’re going to lay here and keep your mouth shut, if you know what’s good for you.” Haphazardly, the criminal tossed her onto the mattress, climbing in after her. Bemused, he watched as she sunk beneath the covers, teetering on the very edge so as to avoid being near him.

A low groan exited her lips as she felt a large hand close around her upper arm, pulling her against the murderer behind her. She didn’t protest, didn’t complain, she only buried her face in her hands, breathing shallowly. What the fuck was going on? His arms snaked around her middle, his face in the crook of her neck. Minutes passed, and her shock continued to wear off - there was no getting out of this situation, was there? [Y/N] was going to be gutted and stuffed down her shower drain, or at the very least strung up by her intestines.

The minutes blended together, and over an hour later, she found herself still lying wide-awake against his snoozing form. But Jerome wasn’t really snoozing, was he? Everytime she shifted, everytime she shivered, every time she whimpered - he would tighten his hold around her ribcage, or would grumble unfriendly things against her skin.

After another half-hour of fidgeting, the redhead grew tired of her constant movement. “You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?” He deadpanned, slowly reaching to grab both of the female’s wrists in one hand, “If you insist on being difficult, I guess I’ll be difficult, too.”

Fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing until she could only take the most uselessly tiny breaths. Jerome had rolled onto her just slightly, trapping her legs beneath his body. There didn’t appear to be any real leverage in struggling.

Rhythmically, he would tighten and loosen his grip, allowing her the precious fragments of air that she needed to stay alive. Tears bowled down her cheeks as she gasped and spluttered, only getting faux-comforting hushes from the man in her bed. It took just a few minutes before her body got tired of fighting, and she succumbed to the darkness that surrounded her.

Two weeks later, and she was having an incredibly hard time keeping the terrorist entertained. At first, violent books and movies kept him sated - so long as she provided him with a healthy dose of alcohol to wash down the fictional atrocities. Then it progressed to board games and card games, most of which he won. Finally, she reached a point where the only things that held his attention were pain games.

Who can stand under the steaming spray of water the longest? How about sitting in an ice bath? Who can hold their breath the longest? Who can sit upside down the longest? Who can eat more spicy foods without needing water? Who can do the most push ups? Sit ups? Jumping jacks? The longest plank? The longest wall sit? The most 5-pound reps? How about we just hold our arms up for as long as possible?

The most recent, taxing, and upsetting game he’d come up with was a game of chance. Jerome and [Y/N] would play ‘War’, each laying down a card to see who had the highest number, and the winner would get to clamp a clothespin on the other person’s skin - wherever they pleased.

Neither of the pair seemed to be winning, each having an array of pins stuck to themselves, but the murderer didn’t appear to mind the constant, stinging pains as much as the thief did.

“Fuck,” She groaned, resisting the urge to rip off the clothespin that her opponent had just attached to her nostril, “I think I need to be done with this game for right now. It’s about dinner time - you hungry?” Carefully, she pulled her skin free from the jaws that pinched her so tightly, and rose from her seat.

Jerome sighed, taking the idle time to stick more pins to himself, but didn’t object to [Y/N]’s request to stop their little game. While she looked in the pantry for something to cook, the sadistic wheels in his head started turning. “I was getting kinda bored with that game anyways…” He grumbled, putting the clothespins in a pile on the table. Glancing around the room, he tried to find a new source of entertainment. As he watched her figure flit about the floorboards, all of the gears finally clicked into place. “Forget about dinner for now,” He commanded, starting to dig through her cupboards and drawers, “You got any duct tape?”

The woman furrowed her eyebrows, setting a saucepan down on the counter, “Yeah, it’s somewhere around here. What do you need that for?” She started towards her bedroom, wondering if she’d left the tape in another area of the house. As she rummaged around in her closet, she could still hear the murderer humming to himself in the other room.

A snicker crept its way from between his lips, and he called out towards his captive, “Hey - you said you weren’t a virgin, right?”

[Y/N] clammed up both physically and verbally, silently pulling her body from the bulk of clothes and coat hangers that existed in her closet. She didn’t bother trying to reply, a shudder running up her spine and back down. His cackles seemed to exist in surround sound, coming from every corner of the apartment. Jerome’s laughter slowed, deepened, until his voice practically vibrated the walls around her. Her hand crept up towards her mouth, and she grasped the handle of a locationally useless fire-poker with her free appendage.

“I bet you scream like one.”

Immediately, she jumped into action, slamming her bedroom door shut before he could get any closer. [Y/N] had already been preparing for the day that he’d get bored with mundane, everyday interactions and start reaching for her panties. She’d gotten the inkling that he was interested in sex when he started rubbing his morning wood along her backside, finding release against her prone, sleepy body. An even bigger tip-off was when he promptly offered to clean out her coochie with his ‘magic stain stick’.

With the lock in place, she scrambled to shove heavy objects in front of the door - her dresser, a chest of linens, an antique vanity - anything to slow his advance to her pants. The hostage knew it was inevitable, but she figured that the noise he made trying to break in would perhaps alert the neighbors, if they cared at all. She pushed her bed against the wall, crawling beneath it with the fire-poker still tightly grasped in a shaky fist. Three solid knocks followed a grumble of frustration as Jerome jiggling the door handle. She cowered in anticipation, shrinking to the farthest corner of her bed as he tried to get in.

“Alright… I’ll make this a little challenge to myself, [Y/N],” He started, his voice scratchy and somewhat annoyed, “If I can’t get this door open within two minutes, I won’t totally fuck you senseless.”

God, why do you hate me? The woman inwardly groaned, her eyes rolling so far backwards she could she her own ass. About 30 seconds passed by while the criminal in the other room rattled around with the doorknob. She was beginning to feel hopeful when she heard the shrill ring of a power drill echoing back into her ears. Moments later, there was a heavy thud against her floorboards.

He cracked open the door, sticking his head through to peer around the bedroom. “I’d say something classic like ‘Here’s Johnny!’, but my name doesn’t end with quite the right sound for that, ya’ know?” Jerome quipped, using a single hard push to completely negate the barricade she’d set up, “Also - is there really any use in hiding in here? You’re either in the closet, or you’re under the bed. I already know you’re under the bed, but I’ll check the closet first if it’ll make you feel better.”

[Y/N] cringed at his words, already feeling embarrassed as he looked around her linens, feigning surprise that his captive wasn’t tucked between the laundry. Her whole body quivered as he stepped to the bed, a jaunty whistle on his lips.

The man stooped down, about to peek behind the hanging sheet, when something else caught his attention. “Hm? And what might this be?” He queried, his hand diving towards a drawer that sat nestled in the upper left corner of her bed, “I know for a fact that I’ve snooped through all of your shit at least twice now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen this little treasure chest.”

This. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened in this situation. Her bed had been carefully positioned against her nightstand for months now, hiding her little drawer of toys from prying eyes. In her haste, she’d completely forgotten that they’d been there. It wasn’t as if she’d had time to rub one out while Jerome was taking up space in her apartment. As she settled a palm over her face, she heard the drawer open.

“Oh, shit, babe, and here I was thinkin’ that you were a prude!” He exclaimed, rummaging unabashedly through her sex toys. After several moments of rude comments and cackling, a new sound entered the room around them. Vibrating. “Oh-ho-ho… [Y/N], you are exactly the type of freak I need.”

Holy fucking shit. The woman hardly had time to get that thought out before a hand wrapped around her ankle, dragging her from under the bed. She squealed, feeling the skin of her knees begin to burn as they were pulled across a throw rug. Immediately, she grasped onto his calves, dragging him down to the floor with her. Their limbs tangled together, each person fighting for dominance. Frantic fingers grasped for the iron poker that she’d dropped in her panic, quickly maneuvering it back into grip.

Woosh. SMACK!

From her unfortunate place beneath him, [Y/N] took a swing at Jerome, only to find that her much longer weapon had simply collided with the vibrating dildo that he’d pulled from her stash.

“Eh… En garde?” The criminal teased, nearly choking on his own laughter. He reactivated the vibrations, setting them to full speed, and the waves passed easily through the poker. She dropped it almost immediately onto her chest, too stunned to react in the appropriate life-or-death manner. This time, he reached it first, his hand wrapped close to the sharp end as he pointed it at her throat. The vibrations quieted.

The woman was tired. Tired of his antics, of his bullshit, of his jokes, of his lustful gaze drinking in her form. “Didn’t know you were a necrophiliac, ‘Romey. How about we get this over with? We had a good run.”

He scoffed, practically spitting in her face as he did so. Jerome sat upright, letting all his weight rest on her hip bones as he tossed the iron object behind him. “Necrophilia? What’s the fun in fuckin’ a dead body, baby? Wasn’t planning on that,” He chuckled, like the whole situation was no big deal.

“Well, you’re not fuckin’ me, so make a decision. Death or roommates?” [Y/N] deadpanned, laying limp beneath his body, her arms lazily at her sides.

“Aw, babe. Isn’t there anything I can do to convince you?” He swooned, leaning back down to her level, shifting his weight to his knees. A hand snaked down between her thighs, resting a thick, purple toy lightly against her pajama-clothed core.

She didn’t appear to notice, staring directly at the ceiling as if to avoid his presence. “Uh-uh. Nope. Notta.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you,” He breathed, turning the violet vibrator on, feeling it resonate through her garments, “Reconsider…?”

Almost immediately, she shivered and writhed beneath him, the machinations being directly on her clitoris felt borderline uncomfortable. “Ah - ah - I don’t know about that, this is already a little much - shit!” [Y/N] felt him shift the toy just slightly upwards, taking the powerful waves of pleasure just a touch away from the bundle of nerves.

She practically melted into the floorboards the both of them were laying on, she was so horny. Jerome started to giggle at her embarrassing little feat of desperation, and watched as her face went between anger and ecstasy. “You’re kind of a whore, you know that?” He asked nonchalantly, rolling the dildo around her core as she hissed and cursed at him, “What, with all these toys - you probably get around, don’t you?”

The woman tried to stifle her gasps and moments of breathlessness, but they were apparent even on her face as he worked her clit like he’d done it a million times before. Still, she managed a grimace, an unimpressed glare. “Don’t need to get around when I’ve got that drawer stocked full. Also - it’s none of your business!”

“Oh, but I think it is,” He purred, setting the toy aside to let his fingers peel back her pants, “C’mon, how many guys? Two? Twelve? Twelve-hundred?”

She gave him a cheeky smile, pulled her legs towards her body to stop him from getting her clothes all the way off. “Guys? Honey, it’s mostly girls. I didn’t take you for a terrorist and a homophobe!”

Jerome rolled his eyes, “You know what I meant.” He fumbled with the waist of her pants, hardly able to get them past her hipbones. She wiggled and folded her figure like a wet noodle, endlessly slipping from his strong hands. “I’m beginning to think that killing you would be more fun…”

[Y/N] cackled, having reached a certain point of mania that had been boiling in her system ever since she’d become a prisoner in her own home. “The more you squeeze, the more it slips away, ‘Romey-o!” She wrapped her arms around her knees in a vice-like grip, curled into an unbreakable fetal position, still giggling, still wiggling.

Now laughing too, to the point of snorting, Jerome abandoned his attempts to remove her clothing and shucked off his own, bearing his entirely naked self to the woman beneath him.

She choked on her chuckles, the sight of his hard cock against his stomach was almost enough to snap her out of her manic episode. Still, she remained wrapped in herself, intent on making the next several minutes as difficult as possible for him. What a schmuck! Did he think the sight of his dick would be hypnotizing? She’d seen some that were just as big, and used silicone ones that were definitely bigger. This thought make her break out into another fit of giggles.

Normally he’d be howling along with someone so deep in hysteria, but the notion that she was laughing at his manhood was emasculating. A scowl painted across his face, and he took ahold of her t-shirt, yanking her upright until they both sat face-to-face, one of them much more jovial than the other.

“Listen, I know funny. What’s so fucking funny right now?” He growled, the muscles in his arms twitching with fury.

Still, tears of pure hilarity leaked from her eyes, her laughs now so tiring that they were dead silent. Small gasps went into and out of her system, but she struggled out a sentence, “Ha… Ha… Oh my god, you’re insane! You’re absolutely nuts! By the way, you’ve got some big ones!” [Y/N] broke into another peal of laughter, not even blinking when the man before her started shaking her senseless.

After this went on until she was too dizzy to laugh anymore, Jerome felt the gears in his head begin to click, “You’re not too sane yourself, you cheeky bitch.” He pulled her closer, “Now take off your clothes.”

She weakly began to take off her shirt, still trying to catch her breath by the time she got to her bra. The man that had suddenly become so aggressive had already torn her pants and underwear off, waiting impatiently to see her luscious, bare breasts - as if he hadn’t seen her naked already.

Without a word of want or warning, Jerome ran his hand through her hair, snagging a large knot of it between his fingers. He stood up in front of her, pulled her locks backwards as he forced his balls into her mouth, crushing her nose against his pubis. 

She immediately began to choke and splutter, pushing on his thighs as if the woman could ever match him in strength. [Y/N] glanced up at him through teary eyes, only getting tiny sniffs of breath as she struggled to get away from the redhead.

“Hey, c’mon, baby,” He hushed, pressing her harder still against his crotch, “You were saying how much you liked my giant balls, weren’t you? I thought you’d enjoy a little taste.” A fit of cackling wracked through his body, allowing just a few moments of air before he shoved her closer once again, eyeing the copious amounts of drool that dribbled down her chin. “While you’re there, though, why don’t you do me a favor and give me a little oral massage?”

All she could do was grimace at him as she rolled her tongue over his hairy nutsack, hollowing out her cheeks just slightly.

A few curse words flung from his lips, followed by more unwarranted teasing, “That just feels so damn good, sweetcheeks. Carrying around these heavy, huge balls all day is tiring. I’m so glad you care, but we’ve got bigger problems here.” Jerome suddenly released her from his grasp, watching her sink farther to her knees as heaved and wiped at her face.

No sooner than she had been let go, a light smack on her cheek jolted her out of the air-desperate haze she’d been in. Glancing up at him, [Y/N] was disappointed to see his hand wrapped around his cock. She noticed the precum leaking from its tip, and felt a bit of thick, creamy residue on the side of her face. Opening her mouth with disbelief, she made a move to accuse him, “Did you just hit me in the fucking face with your fucking ugly dic-”

He took the opportunity to shove his length down her throat, not bothering to let her finish her sentence. In fact, Jerome could hardly be bothered with her immediate satisfaction at all. What he really cared about was getting an ‘A+’ blowjob, complete with a gold star. “If this goes well,” He paused, adjusting her so his cock could reach further back in her throat, “Maybe I’ll give you a little treat.”

[Y/N] grumbled around his manhood, almost daring to drag her teeth along his length, but out of simple fright, she kept the reins on herself tight.

“If this goes really well, you’ll get two treats! One of them you’ll have to swallow to enjoy,” He giggling before breaking out into a coughing fit, jostling the woman around as he moved. The redhead laughed harder when she started gagging, giving him a stern glare. Jerome heard her mumble something unintelligible around his cock, eliciting a deep groan from his chest as he felt his balls draw upwards. “Shit, I’ve needed this for about two years now, did you know that?”

She didn’t, having never asked him when the last time some girl had her lips wrapped around his penis while they were held hostage in their own home. About to mumble another sarcastic reply, she was greeted by a shocking wave of seed spilling down her throat, completely cutting off her air as he dug deeper to make sure she had no choice but to swallow. Several seconds passed by before she felt his grip on her hair loosen, and she [Y/N] immediately pulled away, coughing, heaving, and drooling all over the floor. A moan came from behind her, and she watched as his eyes rolled back in post-orgasm bliss, feeling incredibly grumpy (but also turned on) by his attitude. Where was her orgasm? That felt like the question of the century.

Finally, he snapped back into action, hardly needing any time to recover, though his dick was soft now. “Alrighty, that was excellent - now, I was supposed to give you a treat, but guess what?” Jerome exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands, “I’m not hard anymore! So you’ll have to wait awhile, and I’ll go watch some porn-on-demand? You okay with that?”

She opened her mouth to express how offended she was by the offer, but was interrupted, as she usually was when dealing with him.

“Don’t answer that, I don’t care,” He dismissed, turning around to grab something off of the dresser that still stood in front of her door, displaced by the shove it had taken to break the barricade. When he turned back around, a roll of duct tape was in his hands, and he yanked a long length of it off, using his teeth to cut through the adhesive.

[Y/N] had just gotten herself off the floor when she noticed his advancements, and she hurriedly stumbled backwards to avoid his grasp, once again reaching for the fire-poker to defend herself. Unfortunately, he was too fast, she was too light-headed, and the room was too small to find any source of real escape.

So they were pressed together, naked as they were before, but the roll of duct tape was empty, and the woman was in a tight predicament. She tried to scream through the tape on her mouth, muffled both by the numerous lengths he’d wrapped around her head, and by the used panties stuffed in between her cheeks. Her hands were tightly bound together, and then folded closed until they looked like little stubs at the ends of her forearms. Lower on her body, [Y/N]’s feet shared the same fate, leaving her unable to walk even single steps, or stand whatsoever. After all that work and tape, Jerome had still taken the time to bind her knees and elbows, leaving her halfway mummified and incredibly pissed off.

“Now, I go watch porn, and you can… Roll around like a baby, or take a nap! Either way, you’d still be my helpless, pathetic lady-captive - and you will be for an indefinite amount of time,” He watched her struggle and beg from behind locked lips, and after a moment of thought, he gave in, “Fine, if you wanna be difficult, I’ve got a couple strips of tape left.”

Without hesitation, she shook her head adamantly, watching him grab a few smaller strips of adhesive to do… Whatever the hell he was going to do. He ambled behind her bound form, and she could hear him rummage through her little drawer once more. She began to sweat, using her knees and elbows to try and crawl away from his malicious fingers.

Like a slithering, slimy snake, he was quick and nimble to grab her taped feet, dragging her against the carpet like he’d done before. In just seconds, he had two bullet vibrators stuffed between her pussy lips, and one in her puckered ass, the wires streaming out from within her body, holes both covered with the last of the tape. He wiped his hands together to congratulate himself for the job well done, and gave her sides a little tickle before he strode back to the door. “Hope you’re more comfortable, now, chica, I’ll check on you later!”

Before she could mutely protest, Jerome had shut the door behind him, leaving her to suffer on her bedroom floor. She breathed heavily through her nose, the vibrators making her inner walls flutter and clench. [Y/N] cringed against the sensations, angry with herself for even owning sex toys at this point. She should’ve just gotten a date to take care of her troubles - not that it was a good idea either, considering they would be dead by now.

There was hope, though, and she wasted much energy trying to achieve that little glimmer of promise. The moisture that naturally came from her mouth and nose should loosen the tape around her mouth, and eventually, when she can spit out her panties, she’d be able to… Basically beg him to let her out. It was the only alternative, her hands, feet, and everything else were completely useless.

Several minutes passed, then several more, then several more. She tongued at and licked around her lips, poking at the tape from behind. Eventually, with much relief, she found success. With the tape still clinging to her head, she spat out her underwear, and crawled over to the door, banging on it weakly with her stubby hands. “Jerome! Let me the fuck out of this room right now! I’m warning you! I may be tiny, but I’m pissed and horny, so I’ll at least draw some blood.”

Silence.

She pressed her ear to the door. The TV could be faintly heard, but little else. Shit. Had he left the apartment? Had he left her, tied up, on the floor, with no one to save her? Was she going to starve to death with her cunt and ass plugged?

Finally, she heard a noise. It was the sound of him smacking the door right where her face was, making her fall away from required listening position.

“Listen, sweetcheeks, it’s almost been an hour. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I’ve been rock hard since I closed up your little holes - I just like knowing that you’re suffering on my account,” He admitted, tapping his fingers absently on the door panels, “And the threats certainly aren’t doing you any favors. I might leave you in there for a few more hours, see how you’re feeling then.” Jerome made a huge effort in making his footsteps audible, so she’d know he’d walked away.

Close to tears with frustration, she called out again, “Jerome - please, no. What can I do for you to let me out?”

His footsteps stopped, then reversed, and he tried to conceal his giggles of excitement as he ground out, “What are you willing to offer?”

This was a trap. She knew what he wanted her to say, and she knew she’d say it. The pulsing between her legs was too much, her body ached, and quite frankly, she needed to take a piss pretty badly. With a sigh, she replied, “Anything, Jerome, what do you want? I’ll give anything.”

A deep, unsettling chuckle vibrated up through his body, and he leaned closer to the door so she could properly feel the ice in his voice. “I want everything, baby. Are you willing to give it to me?”

[Y/N] blanched. It’s a trap. It’s a trap. He’s going to do something fucked up to her, and she was completely aware - maybe a little intrigued, as well. Defeated, she whispered, “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll give you everything.”

“What was that?”

More forceful, now, she repeated herself, “I said I’ll give you everything.”

“One more time?”

“Everything, Jerome, if I can give it, you can take it from me.” She shut her eyes, slowly relaxing her prone body to the floorboards once again.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”


End file.
